Through his life, science held a casual but steady pull upon Tim.
Looking toward the bookshelves in the Salston household, one would find a collection of non-fiction by the likes of Carl Sagan, even a novel by him. There were countless atlases of the night sky, books on cosmic origins, on weather, on plate tectonics, on volcanism.
Four years before, Ronnie had given Tim a 12 inch Zhumell Dobsonian reflecting telescope, and Tim loved the clear, moonless nights of fall where he could best make use of the scope.
Lately he was making more use of it, even in moonlight. Thirteen years before, astronomers announced the discovery of a planet orbiting a sun-like star, 51 Pegasi, located some 50 light years from earth. The planet was estimated to be at least the size of Jupiter.
While Tim had precisely zero chance of seeing this discovery, something found through mathematics and not observation, he was nonetheless fascinated by seeing the star’s light through his scope.
He wondered about the world that was found. He wondered if it was in fact the Jupiter of that system, and if smaller, more habitable planets might also be lurking there, unseen. And if they were there, he wondered if the next logical step in such contemplation – life – had arisen and thrived as it had on earth. He knew not, but he surely wondered.
On this night, the scope was again set up, and was again pointed towards the constellation Pegasus, easily visible in the northern night sky. The marvels of modern science meant the scope automatically adjusted for earth’s rotation, keeping the scope trained on its intended subject. Tim had made short work of finding the star, having programmed in the coordinates on a previous night.
Addie and Serry were out with him on this night, tranquil of temperature, of wind, and of emotion. Ronnie remained inside, but if asked in a weak moment, would share that she was relieved Tim was lost in the science, lost in sharing this with their daughters. Each daughter took a turn looking through the eyepiece. After several such views, Tim shut down the scope and moved it indoors. Then they joined Ronnie, talking about what they had seen, and more importantly, what was there but remained unseen. Addison and Serada were fascinated by the prospect of life elsewhere, but Serada in particular loved the fantasy of sentient beings freely roaming space – and surreptitiously plying the skies of an unknowing earth.
Tim ran with their interest.
He offered up his own long held belief in there being life throughout the universe, though he had no proof – just that all the clues added up to this as conclusion.
Addie chimed in with her opinion of how the knowledge of other life, of other beings, would change life on earth. Would we one day meet these beings? And as an afterthought added… could we mate with them?
That remark pulled Ronnie’s face up from the book she had heretofore been engrossed in reading, her face reflecting surprise, amusement, and her own one-upmanship: “…and can you imagine the children of such a union? Imagine if Tim and I called you two girls together to break the news you were half-alien.”
The four of them roared with laughter, Addie holding two fingers up behind Serry’s head in the classic V-antennae symbol signifying an alien. Serada promptly tried to get behind her sister to do the same in return, but Addie was much too quick, grabbed her arms and pulled her close. The two tickled and giggled and for one night, the Salston family had warped back through time to happier days.
